The man under the sheets
by kdlovehg
Summary: The leaves flying off the trees signal the hovercrafts return, and most importantly - Peeta's new boss, sending him scurrying back to the kitchen. If only he knew that avoiding royal scrutiny would leave him the focus of the infamous millionaire's searing gaze. Resistance, though is futile for Katniss, and a forbidden man's lies may bind the two together in an unbreakable vow.


Summary: _The leaves flying off the trees signal the hovercrafts return, and most importantly - Peeta's new boss, sending him scurrying back to the kitchen. If only he knew that avoiding royal scrutiny would leave him the focus of the infamous millionaire's searing gaze. Resistance, though is futile for Katniss, and a forbidden man's lies may bind the two together in an unbreakable vow._

* * *

The whirling hovercraft blades are deafening as it descends from the opaque sky, materialising through the mist. A drop of sweat trails a path from the nape of my neck, down my back before soaking into the waist of my trousers.

"She's here" Delly says abruptly but my gaze lingers on the machine as it lands a hundred yards from where we stand. "Relax Peeta, she can sense fear", she says teasingly, though I don't smile, I'm too transfixed to. "Miss Everdeen won't bite Peeta, she's a good girl". I hear her laugh. "Try not to have a panic attack without me, okay?".

"Okay", I recite absentmindedly as Miss Everdeen steps off of the ramp and onto the ground. I can barley move my fingers, my body taut with tension. Delly's figure slides into my line of sight as she jogs over to the hovercraft, careful not to trip. I remain on the veranda. A few metres from me stands a young man watching our boss intently. He stands tall in his uniform, grinning and trying to act nonchalant as he waves in her direction. A faint shake of her head, so quick it could have been a twitch, indicates her refusal. His smile drops with her rejection.

My breathing speeds up as I watch her, unmoving. Her gaze now focused on her land as she stands proud, shoulders back, with a good posture she must have gained growing up. Even from this distance I can see her immaculate uniform, a crisp white shirt hidden beneath a black blazer and tucked into a black skirt. Unlike the clothing most people of her wealth can afford, her skirt doesn't hug her legs tightly but rather flares out at the bottom, trying to fly with the breeze but held down by her arms. Despite all of this though, her simple braid is the only thing that seems to match the dirty landscape and vast forests we work on called the Seam.

Her subdued confidence, proclaims that this millionaire is the owner of an international landscape architectural company, that funds research on forests and mountains and justly so this land is one of her so called 'hobbies'. I don't know much about her. She's rich - very rich - that's clear. I know she loves to: travel, to see the creations of others, and men. Tall, silent, men.

Katniss Everdeen. Even her name was alluring. I've overheard many of the staff talking about her, in cautious whispers when she's near and shameless shouts when she's away. But its always the same, each word about her is a tease, a warning - because she's unobtainable.

So I choose to keep quiet. Ask nothing about her. Privacy and tales of lies have always been my forte. They disguise me, and my choice of modest clothing allows me to disappear. _Almost._

 _I just didn't expect her to be so...mesmerising._

I watch Delly greet her, no doubt welcoming her back before she walks alongside her to the main farmhouse on site - because Miss Everdeen does not need a guide. She's never been one to follow. Another bead of sweat trickles down my back, though this time I think its less about the anticipation and more about the sweltering summer heat. I wipe my clammy hands on my cotton trousers and try to forcibly slow down my breathing lest I make my unease anymore more obvious. What is it about her that's so, _different?_ I've seem many women just like her, except taller, or prettier or just simply _better_ than herThen again perhaps it's me. Perhaps it's just a fear of someone like her knowing the truth when no-one else has figured it out. That I escaped my affluent past and went to extreme lengths to secure my position here - for a reason.

We haven't spoken. Ever. Which isn't unusual given our different social positions. But that doesn't mean she wouldn't recognise me. The right word, the right picture. Anything could be a trigger for her. Then what do I do? Give up this optimistic life of anonymity, where I have an achieved status? No way. Distance is the best means to deal with this. At least whilst I still have the time for it.

My Uncle has since demanded that I return to Panem by the winter, the latest he would wait is for his ex step-daughter's twelfth birthday. So these few months are all I have.

I squint at the sun and deciding that I don't want to spend my day melting, I rush into the kitchen. There's little relief though. Shade? Yes, but all of the windows are open and directed straight towards the sun, without any curtain to block the rays, thus heating up the room.

"Peeta! Come meet the boss", I flinch at the enthusiasm in Delly's voice. The milkmaid enters the kitchen, a smile lighting up her face. In stark contrast to her peppiness is the woman who trails behind her almost silently. My eyes lock on the scowl that mars her face and I can't look away no matter how rude it is to stare. She's even more enchanting up close, with a strength that seems unusual given her small stature.

Does she know the effect she has on men? I swallow and grunt. My mouth's so dry. As soon as the noise leaves my throat, her eyes dart up to mine and widen. She inhales sharply and glances away, issuing a small grunt of her own. Is there water near here? How is she wearing that blazer in this heat?

As if suddenly realising how hot it is she slips the blazer off and folds it over her arm. My eyes dart away at the faint green colour showing through her shirt. Put the damn blazer back on.

I try not to grimace at the sweat that must have soaked through the bottom of my shirt. I know there must have been a faint wet patch before but who knows the extent now, when I can't control myself when she's in my presence. I try not to make my trepidation clear when she looks me up and down with no visible embarrassment. That's a first. And why does she have to be so... open with it? I don't even think her cheeks have as much colour as mine did when I caught a glimpse of what is beneath her shirt. I force myself not to frown at the thought. It's kind of insulting though - not even a little blush?

"Katniss" Delly starts gesturing to me proudly, "This is Peeta. The man I was telling you about. He's been cooking for us for the past - six months? Yes! But I've heard from a little someone that he's _real_ good at baking".

"Ah. Peeta...?" she begins.

Well hot damn. Freaking hot damn! That's a husky little voice.

She tilts her head looking confused. I chuckle nervously and lick my bottom lip before biting it. I release it to respond promptly, "Crane - that is. Peeta Crane". I tamper down any shame I feel at using my Uncle's surname rather than my own. As far as they know I am Mr Crane because I wasn't required to show all of my documents to them. It's one of the reasons I chose this place.

She squints, watching me intently with her piercing gaze. "Unusual name" she replies bluntly. I smile tersely.

"It is, isn't it?" I agree, changing the topic quickly so she can't interrupt. "You must be famished from your journey. Perhaps you'd like something to eat, Miss Everdeen? Or are you thirsty? Would tea suit you?".

"Please, no food though I uh.. ate before I came. And its, Katniss" she reprimands coolly.

"Of course. Forgive me _Katniss,_ but I think I'd be more comfortable calling you Miss Everdeen" I lie watching her lips twitch slightly, "And for you Delly?". I hide my smile when Katniss clears her throat and straightens up before pretending to adjust her shirt.

"No thanks Peeta, I'll wait till later" she says turning to our boss. "Once you're ready I'll take you on the tour. We've had a few changes since you're last visit". Not giving me a chance to beg her to stay, Delly leaves the room with a smile and abandons me. I stumble around the kitchen, struggling to make the beverage despite having done it a numerous amount of times since I arrived. She's watching me, I know she is. I can feel her gaze on me. Why is she even here? Delly said Miss Everdeen always returns at springtime - the next for us - by which time I'd be gone. It's so common its become expected of her.

Each sound seems to echo with the silence between us; every cup clatters against the counter and the sound of water filling the kettle rushes in to fill the void. A piece of plastic holly lies next to it and I sigh at the sight of it as I boil the water. Since I've been here, I've been demanded to decorate the main farmhouse with bundles of the stuff and erect a 7ft real tree in time for Christmas - a thing I'd never seen before. Whereas in the past I've had to see fake foliage being littered around the gardens. Constant sugary treats and candy canes were on every surface and garish cheap tinsel would run across ceilings. Pristine white candles hung in banquet halls were diligently lit by workers.

Even the glitter always used to be stuck to the floorboards, so no matter what I'd acquired so far, every Christmas was the same. Expensive, eccentric and one hundred percent fake. The only thing I tended to care about was the stack of presents outside each bedroom door come Christmas morning. The same gifts I'd beg my mother to let me give to the young adolescents that served her. The hard working youths - the people I aspired to be like.

"You spilled some" she states whilst I resist from cursing as I burn my hand on the kettle. My fingers twitch slightly from the heat still radiating off of them, but holding the milk bottle is a cool relief. I wish she'd take her tea outside and drink with Delly, or in her room. Just away from me. I glance over at her. My shoulders slump as she leans her hip on one of the windowsills and fidgets with her blazer. Is she not uncomfortable with the silence?

"So um" I start "Have you flown in from the Capitol today?".

"No" she replies as I pour the milk into the cup, watching as it drowns the tea bag. "I've been touring around the districts. Being so close to here at the end though - it'd be crazy not to visit. I wouldn't have flown in from the Capitol though". Her voice softens slightly, or maybe it's just my hearing. "I don't live there". I choose not to comment on that, or the fact that she answered a question I'd never thought to ask. Perhaps I just feared her answer.

"Its been awhile since I've been home to be honest". Her voice loses its soft quality and turns challenging, "Speaking of which... where are you from? You seem a bit - I don't know, posh? High-maintance? You just don't sound right here".

"Neither do you" I respond evasively. She quietens.

I finish by adding some sugar and stir the tea before removing the tea bag and dropping it into another cup. I turn around and hand it to her.

"Thank you" she says softly, "You don't want any?".

"I had a drink earlier" - and your tea's too sweet - I add in my mind, noticing how nervous she looks. She nods. Miss Everdeen crosses her ankles as she stands opposite me, making her skirt tighten slightly around her thighs. I keep eye contact. Ogling a lady is something I'd never do. Unless agreed to of course. I've known that since I could walk. It doesn't mean that the people behind the cameras - or the woman that I was once betrothed to - expect such chivalry from me though. However, this excitement... is new. More, real.

"You still didn't answer my question", she says almost mockingly "Tea isn't that much of a distraction you know".

"Shame" I murmur, annoyed that she hasn't forgotten. I don't want to lie to her, but then again it is one of my best attributes. A skill that's become most necessary. And she'd ask me questions! Lots of them I'm sure. "I wasn't born here. I suppose I inherited my mother's personality".

She takes a sip. "Well either way you're quite clever for someone who chose to work in the kitchens."

"Forgive me. I didn't realise I'd have to forget everything I've learned in order to pass as a rich woman's servant". My lips twitch at the challenge in her eyes.

"Is this a game to you Peeta?" she whispers.

A shiver rolls down my spine. "I suppose I'm just eager to learn. Besides, there are worse to play... and it's Mr Crane. Please" I repeat. Her gaze drops to my shoes before travelling up the length of my body and back down again, stopping halfway to just stare. What is she thinking of me? She gives me a forced smile before downing her drink. She lowers the cup and my eyes are drawn to her mouth as she licks her lips slowly. Effortless. _Effortlessly beautiful_.

I remember Delly telling me that Mss Everdeen preferred to keep her distance, much like myself, especially as more men than women became employed here. I've never heard of her flirting or simply enjoying the pleasures of life. The same kind, many men wish to incite from her. We both seem estranged, and she's regarding me in a way similar to that of a mockingbird that has flown into one of our farmhouses. Wary and angry at being trapped in this domestic confinement, but determined to find an escape window.

She puts her blazer back on, careful not to drop the china, before pulling it tightly around her chest and holding it in place.

"Of course" she responds promptly, uncrossing her ankles and standing straight. "I commend you for _gifting_ us, with your presence Mr Crane. Though I'm afraid we don't really need linguistics around here". I frown at the small dig at the people who work for her, and herself even. She's much smarter than she gives herself credit for.

"I understand we'll be sharing accommodation during my stay".

I blink quickly. What the hell? Nobody mentioned that! For being a gossip, Delly sure is good at telling me useless facts. "We don't have to" I say, spinning around and trying to clean up. I put the milk in the fridge and wait, knowing there's nothing else I can do. I turn back to face her hesitantly. "I've been living upstairs in one of the far corner's of the main farmhouse. In fact, Delly put _me_ there because there were more windows and I can get quite hot, but now that you're back I guess..." I continue, talking faster as I explain myself. "Well I think one of the rooms downstairs are free. Would you mind just giving me time to move my stuff? I'd hate to be in your way".

She tilts her head slightly - like a curious cat - examining me as I speak. I think she shakes her head but I can't be sure. "No that won't be necessary - I mean you don't have to. It's plenty big enough for two people, that's what all the um... furniture is made for". She inhales loudly, "We won't er... be in each others way I suppose. I'm not staying long. A night and a day at the most".

"Ah" I say.

I understand. Busy people are constantly on the move. It makes me wonder how a girl like herself could fit in anywhere, being so naturally uncomfortable that is.

"So um, Delly. She didn't mention how long you would be... staying, with us" she continues pausing. As if she needs to know. The thought though makes me wonder how many of her workers she knows personally. How many come and go with minimal paperwork, between her trips? I lean back onto the counter and rest my hands on top of it. My fingers tap restlessly. A lie or a truth. Real or not real.

"I er, haven't really decided. Just after Christmas probably".

"Your family's not going to miss you? At Christmas?" she asks in a small voice. I tense. They'd never miss me. Especially at Christmas. Maybe one of my nieces would ask where I was but that doesn't mean anything. The only real person that cared about me is gone. I'm just a figurehead to them. Too young to have any power but too old to probe for answers or celebrate such a holiday. The concept of a family get-together is non-existent to me.

"My parents are dead. So in all honesty... nobody misses me", I say, only partially lying.

Her eyebrows furrow but she doesn't say the conventional, "I'm sorry". Instead she asks, "No siblings?". The tapping changes to a scratching. There are so many questions. Usually no-one would dare to interrogate me as much, but that's what she's doing isn't it? Or is this the normal questions an average boss would ask? Is any of this normal? Why does she care? Even Delly wasn't -isn't - that interested and we talk on a daily basis. I may be pure. No - conventional - but I'm not stupid. She had this certain look when she was observing my body. One of appreciation. Then again, perhaps she knows. Of course! She must know, but I can't let her know that I know that she knows. At least I think she does.

Now the hesitance towards her makes sense, because this uneasiness around people isn't normal. I was bred to be sociable, but around her I seem so alert. There's a heaviness in my chest and my shirt feels like a second layer of skin. I don't think I've ever sweated so much. What's wrong with me? I've never be so unsure about someone based on a first interaction. I actually take pride in meeting people, speaking to them. I didn't even feel this way around Madge. Guilt floods through me. Her silver eyes blink at me and I stutter out an answer, "None" - anymore "But I have some - one, close relative. I don't get to speak to her often though."

"She won't be expecting you home?". I shake my head. Since I left Panem, I've called my mother once to tell her I wasn't dead, just travelling. Not that she views them as being any different I suppose. Luckily her lack of care for me was useful this once. My Uncle was a similar scenario, except he was aware of everything which happened between us. Thus it wasn't hard for him to grant me this small chance at freedom and since I've heard so much gossip, lacking in details about myself, I believe there is little news published on my disappearance. Someone must have stepped up to take on my small duties. They would have been more important had Madge not betrayed me.

I decide to put her on the spot. No more questions for me. "And how will your Christmas be?". As soon as I say the words, her face hardens. A flash of pain shows in her eyes before it's smothered by a blank stare. I'm taken aback. Surely something so simple couldn't hurt someone so powerful.

"I won't be expected if that's what you're asking", she says, her words cold. "That kind of love for someone doesn't exist outside of fairy tales, and I've learned not to give in to such frivolous notions... _Mr_ _Crane_!".

Abruptly, she storms over and shoves her cup at me. I grab it and put it back on the counter without looking. The woman could make a weapon out of it. She's so close I can see how supple her skin is, left untainted by makeup. I could touch her...if I just lean forward. I jerk back. No. Not her.

"Or is that a weakness of yours?" she observes glaring at me - goodness her eyes do a lot - before noticing my hands. "Your hands are trembling. What's the matter, _Peeta?_ Is something bothering you? Is it me?".

The blood rushes to my face, my embarrassment clear against my pale skin, but I shake my head. She won't win. "No. As grateful as I am Miss Everdeen for your... presence, I'd prefer to be alone whilst I work. Calms the nerves I suppose. I was about to start cooking lunch for the others. You must know how hard it is to work while you're hungry". I smile. If she wasn't looking I'd poke my tongue out at her. "If you'll excuse me?". Her breathing deepens, I can feel the harsh exhales faintly against my chest. Damn this humidity.

"I'm getting the sense you want to get rid of me. It feels almost like a _dismissal"_. I stop myself from biting my lip at her she says silvery voice. My teeth graze it instead. "I guess... you may be excused. Or I can leave? I'd admire you more if you're dedicated to your work". She starts to leave but hesitates by the door and there feels like a shift. She transitions from an inquiring boss, curious about how nervous I am to a millionaire landscape owner that rides in expensive hovercrafts and seems to regard me as something she is entitled to.

"We can share the area, but I'll warn you, I like my own company. So don't bother yourself with trying to talk with me or offer idle chit-chat. Pleasantries aren't my thing, especially when I'm working. So if the day is beautiful and not as harsh as this one then we won't need to bother conversing" she says, her voice hardening. "I certainly don't need to hear your views on how the sun alters the sky in the evening or how you _happily_ ask me what I plan to do for the day. Peace will suit me just fine and any conversations that you force me to engage with will be meet with a scarce reply, understand?".

She watches me over her shoulder intently. That must be the rudest thing anyone has ever said to me. Even about someone else. It's intriguing! It's insulting. I match her stare. She acts so entitled! She is, but I'd rather talk to Delly or some of the other men who work in the farmhouse. My voice and my body are both stiff with rage, "Of course Miss Everdeen". I smile as the door slams behind her. She's the most arrogant woman I've ever met. Who pry's in someone's life just to insult them? Then again would that count as her being charming? Either way it's fascinating. My eyes close, and as much as I want to her focus on my breathing its a picture of her that keeps flashing in my mind. She has this type of effect on me. I've never questioned whether I should lie or been visibly nervous around others. My mother made sure to dispel that in me since I was old enough to stand up without her help.

It doesn't matter though - she's just passing through. Yet despite my best intentions I can even lie when my feet guide me to the window so I can watch her cross the grass. Just once more. A final glance.

Her brown hair shines under the sun making it look sleek rather than greasy. I wonder if it took her years to get it to that point. Where her hair was healthy and didn't notify the world of how hungry she has been. Then again maybe she's never experienced hunger. Maybe that's something we have in common. Something I can hate her for.

I ignore the yearning pulsing through me and slam the window shut before leaning on it for support. It's just unfortunate that Katniss turned around at the sound, and there are no doubts in my mind that the lazy smile she gives me is the first of many that will make me fall to my knees. At least until I surrender. Then it's all put into perspective, because she has an effect on people like myself. And worse? She knows it.

* * *

 ** _Authors note ~ Hey! Another one. I'm sorry, I'm guilty of wanting to start tons of new fics, which I am. TBH, I'm working over 12 new ones now. :o Though I want to update so I'm currently working on chapter two of To Bestow a gentleman. What do you think? Please review, follow, favourite! I love hearing your feedback! I appreciate it so much. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!_**


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